Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly challenge presented by my old friend Al Forbes.
The idea is to write a short story (200 word max) inspired by what you see in his picture (below).
This week’s somewhat sinister looking object makes me think somewhat sinister thoughts.
So I write a somewhat sinister story.
Or do I?Click on this link to enter your tale, and to see what others have written.

I am a magician.
Actually, to be more honest, I am a sorcerer.
So I can do magic, just much, much more effectively than any of these showmen and impostors.
I hear about the Great Magic Competition, sponsored by the royal court.
I decide to win it.
Not, I have to say, for the honour and glory.
I have no need of that.
And not for the Silver Chalice.
No, that reminds me too much of my mother-in-law.
But I will win it for the real prize, one thousand gold pieces.
The judge is to be the Royal Buffoon himself, our crown prince.
Who, I have to tell you, knows nothing about the arts of illusion and deception.
He would not recognise a Magic Dragon if it bit him on the bum.
I watch the other competitors saw women in half, make pretty assistants disappear, levitate.
All the usual tomfoolery.
I step forward.
Will I just take the prize now, I ask, avoid any unpleasantness?
They all start to laugh.
I wave my wand.
They stop abruptly.
I stroll across, lift the prizes.
No one moves.
No one speaks.
I amble off home.
A little Paralysis Spell is just magic.

I can almost envision him taking the prize home, piling it all on top of a table already overflowing with other ‘wins’, pouring himself a good dram of something mildly toxic and laughing silently to himself as he enjoys the drink.

Ah, good point: a real sorcerer could wipe the floor with all these charlatan prestidigitators! And yet, the next day they would all be bending over backwards trying to explain how the “trick” was done.